


Survive Until Morning

by bexgowen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, The Purge (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Pre-Epilogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexgowen/pseuds/bexgowen
Summary: “But now we’re in trouble, and it’s all my fault,” Albus said, embarrassed at the tears he could feel filling his eyes.“We are,” his mother admitted. “But now is not the time to assign blame. Right now, what we need to do is come up with a plan to survive until morning".In the wake of the terror of the Second Wizarding War, Muggle Britain instituted an annual Purge event to bring it back to its former glory. And when Albus Potter sees a man calling for help during the Purge, he can't stand by and ignore him.Meanwhile, Aunt Hermione is investigating why the Purge is disproportionately affecting witches and wizards, and teams up with the Muggle Minister for Opposition to determine why.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Introduction

In the late 1990s, Britain was struck by a wave of inexplicable and unstoppable terror. For two years, British citizens watched from under a cloud of depression and despair as their fellow citizens died and their towns and cities were destroyed in ways that science could not explain, with no group claiming responsibility and with the government unable to prevent further destruction or loss of life.

By the year 2000 the wave of terror and gloom stopped as suddenly and as inexplicably as it started, but Britain never recovered from the shock of the previous few years. The economy failed, unemployment rose to staggering new levels and the crime rate soared. In its wake, a new political party emerged, one that spoke of restoring Britain to its peak. It promised to protect Britain from a resurgence of “the wave of terror”, which it blamed on Britain's signature “stiff upper lip”. 

By 2005, this new party, calling itself the British League of Nationalists (or BLN) had gained enough power to win enough seats away from the majority party to force a coalition with the Conservative Party, giving the BLN a strong influence over the policies and laws brought forward by the government.

The piece de resistance of the Conservative/BLN coalition’s legislative reform was a proposition called “The Purge”.

Every year at 7pm on March 22nd all crime, including murder, is legal for twelve continuous hours. Weapons prohibited by section 5 of the Firearms Act 1968 are authorised for use, with the exception of rocket launchers and other devices that launch noxious gas or explosives. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 and above are granted immunity from the Purge and are not to be harmed. The working members of the Royal Family are not to be harmed. Police, fire, and emergency services are unavailable from the commencement of the Purge until the next morning at 7 am when “the Purge” concludes. 

Since the introduction of the Purge, the crime rate in Britain has dropped to 1%. Unemployment is at its lowest rates ever, as is homelessness. The British economy is booming and levels of satisfaction among British citizens is sky high. 

However, the biggest impact of the Purge has been on a part of British society that no-one talks about, or even knows about: the witches and wizards of Magical Britain.

Magical Britain does not Purge. Despite this, the numbers of witches and wizards dying or being affected during the Purge is increasing each year, and the Ministry of Magic is determined to find the reason why. 

It is now 2015, and Magical Britain is bracing itself for the fifth annual Purge.


	2. Albus

_Monday, March 22nd 2015: 4 hours until the Purge commences_

Albus Potter trudged slowly into the school hall, following his classmates down the aisle and then sitting on the low wooden benches his teacher was pointing to. As he sat, the low murmur of voices washed around him, Albus looked round the small hall, searching for familiar faces. There, on the bench on the other side of the hall was his cousin, Rose Weasley-Granger, her curly hair tied back from her face with a green school ribbon. And, craning his neck to look behind him, Albus could see his brother James’ dark hair amongst the older students sitting in the plastic chairs towards the back of the room. James caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in a _“What do you want?”_ expression. Albus turned back around and stared down at his hands. 

He didn’t want to be here. 

As the principal of the school walked across the small stage to the lectern and microphone on the other side, the susurration of talking slowly died out, and by the time Principal Adams cleared his throat and looked out at the sea of students and teachers sitting in front of him, the hall was silent.

This was no ordinary school assembly, and everyone knew it. 

“Good afternoon, students,” Principal Adams said, stooping to reach the microphone. He waited for the automatic and robotic “good afternoon, Principal Adams” to be chanted back to him, and then smiled a large and - to Albus’s eye - patently false smile. 

“Tonight is an important night. Tonight, your mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers will do their duty to cleanse their souls, to free themselves of their hatred and fears so they can rise and make our wonderful nation great again. Here to tell us all about it is Nanny Philomenia.”

With a nod to someone in the back of the room, Principal Adams stepped away from the lectern, and a large screen magically - not _magically_ , Albus corrected himself, wheels and cogs powered by electricity triggered by radio waves - lowered until it reached the stage. For a moment it was blank, and then a picture of a British flag, raised high in a clear blue sky and waving in the wind filled the screen. The image faded, and then the face of a not-so-young woman with a blue hat perched on the top of her head, a stiff white collar and red tie over a blue shirt under her chin, and bright red lips smiling filled the screen. 

This was going to be the fourth time Albus watched this video. He remembered the first time he had watched it: sitting in this same hall - except, being in Reception, he was sitting on the carpet at the front of the hall like his little sister and Rose's little brother were sitting - staring with excitement at the screen. They didn’t have a television at home, and Albus loved the moving pictures and was thrilled any time he got to watch anything. Maybe it was a movie, or some cartoons! he remembered thinking.

Instead, he had watched as Nanny Philomena beamed out at them.

“Thank you Principal Adams! I am Nanny Philomena, and I am so happy to be here, talking to you all about feelings.”

The rictus grin on Nanny Philomena’s face drooped, and she made an exaggerated sad face. “I’ve been having some big feelings lately. I’ve been feeling sad, and angry, and worried. Have you ever felt like this?” Nanny Philomenia paused, as though she was expecting an answer. Albus felt his head nodded, and saw around him that some of his classmates were nodding too.

“Sometimes it can be hard to talk about our feelings. Even for grown ups. And that is why we have a special night that helps people get their feelings out. Do any of you know what it is called?”

Again, she paused. Albus didn’t know what it was called, but a small voice from somewhere behind Albus piped up and said “Purge!”

Nanny Philomenia stared out at them for a few more seconds, her eyebrows raised in a question. Then she broke into a pleased smile and said “That’s right! The Purge! The Purge allows grown ups to deal with their bad feelings by giving them one night to do whatever they want to get rid of aaaaaalllll those bad feelings. You know how sometimes you want to scream or cry or punch a pillow because you are so angry? Well, sometimes grown ups can’t do that. So the Purge is just like that. It’s a night when the adults can scream and cry and punch things and do whatever they need to do to make themselves feel better.”

Behind Nanny Philomenia, the screen showed pictures of people: a smiling doctor in a white coat standing by a smiling person in a bed; a smiling police officer shaking hands with a man with material wrapped around his head; a person in a red uniform with giant fuzzy black hat standing in front of tall iron gates. 

“For one night, your mummies and daddies can release all their worries and fears, which will give them the freedom to accomplish the things that they always dreamed of doing and make our wonderful country the greatest in the world.”

There was a rustle at the back of the hall, and Albus turned around to see one of the older students standing up, a microphone in one hand and a small piece of paper in the other. “Can they stay up all night?” she said, obviously reading the words from the paper.

“Yes!” Nanny Philomenia said happily.

There was another rustle as another student stood up, and the first student passed her microphone and piece of paper over to him.

“Can they hurt people?”

Albus sat up straight, eyes wide. Around him, he heard shocked gasps and whispers. Nanny Philomenia simply stared out expectantly, and then nodded, her face serious.

“Yes, they can. But remember, while your mothers and fathers Purge, as is their duty, you will be perfectly safe. You will go to sleep, and when you wake up, your mothers and fathers will be cleansed and ready to work hard for our nation. And one day, you will be blessed with the opportunity to Purge too.”

Albus remembered watching the video, and then going home, utterly confused, and asking his parents if what he had been told was true. 

The memory of the night after Albus watched the Purge video would be seared in Albus’ memory forever. They had spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa Weasely’s with Rose and her family. After dinner, while Grandpa showed Albus’ little sister Lily and Rose’s little brother Hugo a muggle game he had found (“see, you use these tweezles to try and pick up the little pieces without touching the sides, but if you do then the whole thing buzzes because it’s elect-trisity”) and Uncle Ron challenged James to a game of wizard’s chess (Rose running back and forth, offering her opinion to whomever she thought needed it), Albus' mum and dad had sat him down at the kitchen table and made him a big, steaming mug of hot chocolate with thick, fluffy marshmallows. Aunt Hermione had joined them, and Albus had felt so very grown up, sitting at the table with the grown ups, drinking out of one of Grandma’s special grown up mugs. But then his dad had started talking, and suddenly Albus didn’t want to be a grown up any more. 

_“Do you remember us telling you about Voldemort?” his dad asked, his face serious._

_Albus nodded._

_“When Voldemort and his followers were attacking the witches and wizards, the muggles didn’t understand what was going on. They couldn’t explain the impossible things that were happening - like how a bridge could be destroyed without anyone seeing how it happened, and they couldn’t see the Dementors, so they didn’t understand why they felt so scared and sad all the time. Their Prime Minister - do you remember what a Prime Minister is? - the Prime Minister couldn’t help, and a lot of muggles were scared and angry that he wasn’t doing anything to stop the attacks._

_“After the war, people were still angry, and they wanted a new Prime Minister, one who would be able to tell them what was going on and would stop all the bad things from happening. And a person came along, promising to protect them and promising to make everything all right again. So the muggles all agreed that the new person should be the Prime Minister. And he started making changes which he said would make everyone safe again.”_

_“And the Purge was one of the changes?” Albus asked._

_His dad nodded. “The new Prime Minister said that all the bad things had happened because all the Muggles were so...they kept everything bottled up. All their sadness and anger and fear. The Purge was supposed to be a way for people to do what they needed to do to let out all those feelings, so that they could be happy and safe for the rest of the year.”_

_Albus was silent for a minute, comparing the story his Dad told him with the video he had watched. The video had made Purging sound like a good thing. Albus felt sad and angry sometimes, and he thought maybe it would be nice to be allowed to let all those feelings out.“So why don’t we Purge?” Albus asked, confused._

_His mum and dad exchanged a look, and then his mum spoke._

_“After the War, there were lots of people who were very angry. They were people who had followed Voldemort and believed in all the things that he had said, and were angry that he was gone. And there were other people who had had bad things happen to them during the War, and they were angry and wanted to make the people who had done the bad things feel just as bad. The Minister for Magic decided that Purging wasn’t going to help us, it was going to stop anyone from feeling better.”_

_Albus didn’t look convinced. He thought that maybe doing a Purge was just what everyone needed to stop feeling so angry and sad all the time. His face must have shown his thoughts, because Aunt Hermione leaned forward. But then something else occurred to him._

_“But...if all the bad things that happened to the Muggles was because of Voldemort, then why don’t we tell the Muggles that? That it wasn’t because they were bad, but because there was a war? And then they don’t have to Purge, because Voldemort is gone?”_

_All the grown ups looked at each other. Aunt Hermione spoke first._

_“Albus, do you remember what your Dad told you when you started school? About being a wizard?”_

_Albus nodded. James was given the same speech every year before he started school, and this year Albus had been included._

_“Don’t tell anyone I’m a wizard, don’t tell anyone about magic, don’t talk about magic things,” he recited in a bored voice with a roll of his eyes._

_He saw his Aunt Hermione bite her lip, the corners of her mouth twitching._

_“Well, yes, but did he tell you why?”_

_Albus looked at his dad, who raised an eyebrow, his face asking “Well, did I?”_

_“Because muggles don’t know about magic. And they might be afraid of me. And they might hurt me. So we need to keep magic a secret.”_

_Aunt Hermione nodded, and opened her mouth to say something else, but his dad spoke first._

_“Yes. And the Minister was afraid that there would be some witches and wizards who would use the Purge to - to hurt the muggles for being afraid of us. And that if witches and wizards used magic during the Purge then more muggles would be afraid of us, and then they would try to hurt us during the Purge. So the Minister decided that witches and wizards wouldn’t Purge, because people would just keep being afraid and angry and getting killed.”_

_Albus looked at his Dad, his eyes wide. “Wait - people get_ killed _during the Purge?”_

_Albus saw the grown ups exchange glances._

_“Albus,” his mum said gently, “remember when you were little, and James would tease you?”_

_Albus nodded, a frown on his face. “I didn’t like that,” he said._

_“I know. Do you remember what you would do?”_

_Albus thought about it. “Magic,” he remembered._

_His mum nodded. “You got so mad that you did accidental magic. And it made you feel better, didn’t it?” Albus nodded. “Muggles can’t do that. If they get mad or sad or angry, then they need to find another way to make themselves feel better. And some of them hurt other people to try and make themselves feel better. And sometimes they hurt them so bad that they die.”_

_Albus was horrified. “So, during the Purge, people cleanse their souls of hatred and aggression by killing other people?”_

_“Yes,” his Dad said. “They kill people or they break things. And the Minister for Magic didn’t want that to happen to witches and wizards. So we don’t Purge. We go away, or we go to an all-magical place that the Muggles can’t find, or we cast wards and I send Aurors out to protect everyone.”_

_“And that’s why we come to the Burrow?” Albus asked._

_His mum nodded. “Ottery St. Catchpole is all magical, and hidden from Muggles. We’re safe here. And being with family makes what could be an awful night a little bit better.”_

_“But we’re not safe at home?”_

_“You will always be safe at home,” his Dad said quickly, shooting a look at his mum. “But Godric’s Hollow is a mix of Muggles and witches and wizards, so sometimes…... “_

_Albus remembered last year. They had gone to the Burrow, just like tonight, but when they returned to Godric’s Hollow in the morning, Albus had seen the burnt houses and cars, the smashed windows, the paint on the buildings and the blood on the streets that hadn’t been cleaned away. His parents hadn’t told him why it had happened, but Albus suddenly realised that it had been the result of people Purging._

The scrape of wood on wood and the rustle of clothing snapped Albus back to reality. He lurched to his feet with the rest of the students and pretended to sing along to “God Save the Queen,” and then followed as his class filed out of the hall. Around him, he could hear excited chatter and whispers as his classmates discussed what they were doing tonight, how they and their families were going to do their duty and Purge. 

Albus stayed silent. He just wanted to go home, and see his Dad. He wanted this Dad to hug him, and promise him that nothing bad would happen to him and his family. 

He just wanted this night to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nanny Philomena"'s presentation is paraphrased from the opening scenes of season 2, episode 9 of "The Purge" series on Amazon Prime.


	3. Laura

_Thursday, April 24nd 2014: Ten Months and Twenty Six Days Purge commences_

Her Majesty’s Official Opposition, the Right Honourable Laura Cole sank into her chair with a sigh. The heels that lifted her shorter frame to bring her to eye level - or above - of her male colleague (and made her legs look amazing, if she did say so herself) were hell on her feet, and the highlight of her day was the time when she could escape to her office, shut the door and kick the damnable things across the room.

Well, maybe not across the room. They did cost a pretty penny. _But they are worth it_ , Laura thought, not for the first time. 

A familiar knock on her door brought a groan to her lips. “It’s the end of the day, Penelope. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

Despite this, the door opened, and as Laura sat up to blast her assistant to hell, a strange woman walked in saying “I’m very sorry, but it can’t.”

Laura stared at the woman who was now standing across Laura’s desk from her. Impeccably dressed in a tailored skirt and suit jacket, brown hair slicked back into a bun and carrying a briefcase, the woman held out her hand with perfect confidence and said, “Hermione Granger, Minister Cole. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Laura gaped at the woman - Hermione - and then looked at the slightly worried face of Penelope peering through the still open door. “Penelope, who is this woman?”

Penelope looked to Hermione.

“Hermione Granger, Minister. I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for Britain.” Hermione said gently. “May I take a seat? And I think tea would be in order, please, Penelope?”

Laura was flummoxed as she watched Hermione take a seat in one of the visitor chairs opposite Laura’s desk and took a polite look around while Penelope immediately disappeared from the door - no doubt on her way to the kitchen to rustle up a tea tray as this strange woman had requested. 

Finally able to find her words, Laura spoke. “Head of - what? Magical Law -? What - what on earth - is this a joke?” She looked around the room. “Is there a camera?”

“Oh no,” Hermione said assuredly, returning her gaze to Laura. “It’s quite real, I’m afraid.”

Laura sat, staring at Hermione, wondering if the stress had finally caused that mental breakdown her partner had predicted was coming. _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_ , Laura repeated in her head. _She must be mad. But she doesn’t look mad. Maybe I’ve gone mad. Yes, that’s it, I’ve gone mad. Mad as a Hatter_. She began to laugh, her hysterical giggles continuing even as Penelope entered the room carrying the tea tray and placed it on Laura’s desk, giving her a concerned and somewhat apologetic look.

“Shall I be mother?” Hermione said, thanking Penelope, who moved to close the door and then - to Laura’s surprise - sat down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

Laura stared incredulously at the cup of tea that Hermione placed on the desk in front of her, and then up at Hermione. 

“You should drink that,” Hermione suggested, taking a sip from her own up. “You’ll feel better.”

Automatically Laura took the cup, and still giggling, sipped the tea. It was hot, and strong, just like Laura liked it, and surprisingly it did make her feel better.

She kept sipping her tea as Hermione started talking, and wondered idly if Penelope or Hermione had slipped something into her tea. For Hermione was talking about witches and wizards as though they were real and not merely characters in fairy tales, and Laura nodded politely as Hermione told her that witches and wizards lived in secret all over Britain and that she - Hermione - was the head of what was the equivalent of the British Home office, and was responsible for governing the wizarding community and preventing non-magical people - muggles - from discovering their existence. 

When Hermione stopped talking, Laura leaned forward and very carefully put her cup and saucer on her desk, and then sat back. “Get out,” she told Hermione.

Hermione blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Get out. I don’t know what kind of prank or joke this is, or what you think you will achieve by coming here and telling me these - these - _tales_ , I don’t care how you get in here, but you will leave. Now.”

Hermione sighed. “Minister - “

“Penelope! Show Ms Granger out please, and then call Peters. I think we need to have a review of our security measures.”

Penelope straightened, but didn’t move, looking instead towards Hermione, and Laura was incensed to see Hermione give a small shake of her head, and Penelope automatically sink back on the chaise.

With a frustrated bang on her desk, Laura, hauled herself to her feet - not even feeling the ache in the balls of her feet in her anger - and walked around her desk. “Fine! I will do it myself,” she said, crossing the room towards the door and pulling it open. “Ms Granger, I won’t ask -”

The door handle pulled out of her grip, and the door slammed shut.

Laura looked at the now closed door and blinked. She hadn’t felt the draught, but the offices were old, and wind tunnels were known to form, closing windows and doors unexpectedly. Automatically, Laura reached out and opened the door again.

Again, the door slammed shut.

Laura reached for the door knob again, but the door would not even open this time. Confused, Laura turned the handle - it turned, the door wasn’t locked - it was just as though an immovable force was holding the door closed.

Laura turned to look at Hermione, and her eyes widened to see the woman sitting calmly in her chair, pointing a long wooden stick at Laura. No - Laura realised, not at Laura. _At the door._

“Minister. May I call you Laura?” Hermione asked, lowering the stick and placing it in her lap. “Laura, I understand that this is a lot to take in, but we have a lot of talk about, so if you would please take a seat and I will try to explain why I am here.”

Laura looked from the stick in Hermione’s lap to the door and back again. “What did you do to the door?” she asked, very proud that her voice did not sound at all panicked and frightened.

“A simple locking spell,” Hermione assured her. “Easily removed when we’re done”

Laura stared, her mind racing.

“You’re a witch,” she finally said.

Hemione sighed, a relieved sigh. “Yes, I’m a witch,” she said. “And I need your help.”

Laura numbly walked back to her desk, slowly lowered herself into her chair, and took another sip of her tea. It really was good tea. 

If this was a mental break, Laura didn’t know how to get out of it, so she decided to just go with it. Maybe if she gave in to the hallucinations, they would stop sooner.

“And how can I help you, Ms Granger?” she asked politely, raising her eyebrows in query.

“Hermione, please,” the Minister - woman - witch - said. “It’s about the Purge.”

Laura closed her eyes and dropped her head in exhaustion. Of course it was.

Since the Purge had been instituted six years ago, Laura had fought hard against it. Every day, her office received complaints about the Purge and pleas for help from her constituents: they were among the poorest in the country, and the Purge hit them harder than others. Business looted, houses destroyed, families going bankrupt trying to pay exorbitant Purge insurance that failed to provide any real coverage, family members missing or dead. Every year, Laura argued for the abolishment of the Purge, or, failing that, more resources put into helping families and businesses that were affected by the Purge. She had become the face of the Anti-Purge movement, and each year the numbers of hate mail and death threats she received began to overtake the rest of the messages she received. Hermione didn’t look like a pro-Purger, but just in case, Laura moved her fingers to rest over the panic button installed under her desk. 

“We believe that a group of wizards have influence, or perhaps even infiltrated, the leading party of your government for the purposes of introducing the Purge as a means of genocide,” Hermione said bluntly.

Laura blinked. Of all the things she had been expecting to hear out of the other Minister’s mouth, that was definitely not even close to being it. Her fingers dropped away from the button. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Laura said.

“There is a group of witches and wizards in my world,” Hermione said, speaking slowly as though to a child “who believe very strongly in racial supremacy. Blood supremacy, really. And we believe that they have been instrumental in enacting the Purge legislation in your world in order to eliminate those members of the wizarding community who they believe to be racially undesirable. Impure, to use their terminology.”

“Racist wizards,” Laura said.

Hermione nodded. “In essence, yes.”

“And they’re using the Purge to wipe out the ‘undesirables’.”

“Yes.”

Laura was silent. 

“And what do you want me to do about it?” she asked.

Hermione took a breath. “We believe there are connections between the Prime Minister and his party and the wizarding world. My department is working to make these connections. However, we have no resources to follow any leads we may find from our end to yours. And that is where we need your help.”

Laura looked up at Hermione. “This is the strangest conversation I have ever had,’ she confessed to the other woman.

Hermione smiled in understanding. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said. “I remember the first time I heard about witches and wizards and magic. But it is real. And we do need your help.”

“Why are you asking me? Why not go straight to the Prime Minister?”

Hermione gave Laura a slightly condescending smile. “Other than we suspect that the Prime Minister himself might be involved, or at least would be motivated to cover up any allegations of wrong-doing by his party?” she said. “The Prime Minister’s liaison with Magical Britain is the Minister for Magic, and…..”

This stopped Laura. “The Prime Minister knows about magic?” she asked.

“Traditionally yes, the Minister for Magic of the time meets with the newly appointed Prime Minister and informs them of the existence of magical Britain. However, the new Prime Minister has not only refused to meet with our Minister, he has managed to….repel all attempts to contact him.”

Laura didn’t know what Hermione meant by “repel” but she had a feeling that it wasn’t a good thing for a person to be able to stop a witch from doing what she wanted, especially a witch or wizard as powerful as someone like the Minister for Magic. 

As Laura pondered this, Hermioned rummaged through her briefcase again before snapping it closed and standing up. “I apologise for overloading you with information,” she said, stepping away from the desk. “However, if you could think about what I said, and if you think you could further our investigations any, I would be grateful.”

She held her hand out to Laura, who automatically stood and shook Hermione’s hand.

“If you have any questions, or want to speak to me again, let Penelope know,” Hermione said, walking to the door. “She knows how to get in touch with me.”

Laura looked at Penelope in surprise, and was shocked when Penelope gave an apologetic shrug and - with a twist of her wrist - shot green and blue sparks into the air.

“Oh,” Hermione said, coming to a stop by the still-closed door, not noticing Laura’s utter disbelief. “I thought you might like to read this.” She held out a book to Laura, and Laura was shocked to find herself standing next to Hermione, as though she had followed her to the door to see her out. Without thinking, she took the book from Hermione and looked at the title.

_ Modern Magical History - 2nd Edition. _

“The whole book is fascinating, but I suggest you start at chapter seven,” Hermione said. “That covers the start of the Wizarding Wars and the rise of the blood supremacists. It will give you a general idea of where I’m coming from.”

Laura nodded numbly and opened the book to find the contents page. _Chapter Seven: The Boy Who Lived._

“You will only be able to read the book here” Hermione said apologetically. “I’ve spelled the book so that only you and Penelope can see it, and that it cannot be removed from this office. Oh”, she added, “I hope you understand that you can’t tell anybody about what we have discussed here. I’m breaching my own Statue of Secrecy by being here.”

Laura gave a faint laugh. “Who would believe me, even if I did talk?” she said.

“Yes, well, quite,” Hermione said.

With a quick wave of her stick at the door, which Laura suddenly realised was actually a magic wand, the door swung open. 

“Thank you, Minister,” Hermione said. “I hope to hear from you again soon.” 

With a quick smile for Penelope, Hermione disappeared through the door, leaving Laura staring at the darkened hallway.

“Ma’am?” 

Laura looked up to see Penelope standing beside her, a worried look on her face. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

Laura stared at her wonderful assistant - the best assistant Laura had ever had - and wondered how much of that wonder was due to Penelope being…... _a witch_ , her mind supplied. _Penelope is a witch._

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she said, somewhat dazed. 

This was all just a dream. A hallucination. A mental break. She would go home, maybe relax with a glass of wine, and then go to sleep, and when she woke in the morning none of this would have happened and Laura could get on with her life. Yes. Maybe one day she could even laugh with Merry about the strange stress-induced dream she had once had where she imagined meeting a witch who wanted her to investigate her government for conspiring with racist wizards!

Laura shook her head and walked back to her desk, dropping the book that Hermione had given her in the small rubbish bin. She packed her own briefcase and then bid Penelope a good night, warning her assistant not to stay too much later, ignoring the worried look that Penelope was giving her. 

But when Laura arrived back in her office the next morning, refreshed from the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long while, smiling as she passed her wonderful assistant's desk, the book she had dreamed about - _Modern Magical History - 2nd Edition_ \- was sitting on her desk, in front of her keyboard. 

Laura dropped her bag.

It wasn’t a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will alternate from here one out: even-numbered chapters being from Albus' perspective in the "present" (relatively speaking), odd-numbered chapters from Laura's perspective in the "past".


	4. Albus

_Monday, March 22nd 2015: 1 hour until the Purge commences._

This year was the first year Albus could remember that the Potters were staying in Godric’s Hollow on Purge night. 

It had been a surprise when it was their dad and not their mum that had picked them up from school. While Lily had whined for a moment when she realised that they wouldn’t be going to The Burrow that night, the promise of a night of fun and games with Dad and all the sugar and chocolate they could sneak past Ginny was enough to change Lily’s mind. Albus had still been worried, though. He didn’t understand why they were staying home this year, after years of leaving for the safety of Ottery St. Catchpole, and when the car had rolled to a stop in the driveway of their house, Albus had loitered by the car to get a moment alone with his dad to ask him.

“You don’t want to stay home with me?” his Dad had asked, and Albus had seen something flash across his father’s face. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Albus had hesitated. “It’s just…..will we be safe?”

His dad had sighed and dropped to a crouch in front of Albus. “You will be safe,” he had said. “The Ministry has arranged for extra patrols of Godric’s Hollow tonight. And I won’t let anything happen to you.” He must have noticed the doubt on Albus’ face, though, because he had grabbed Albus’s arm and given it a quick squeeze. “Hey, why don’t you help me set up the protective wards, then you’ll see how safe you are?”

Albus had nodded, still worried, but had followed as his dad straightened and walked around to the side of the house, where the neighbours across the street couldn’t see. With a quick smile at Albus, his dad had pulled his wand out of his pocket and held his arms up, wand pointed straight into the sky. 

_“Protego horribilis…….Salvio Hexia…….Protego Maxima. Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum.”_

As his dad chanted, Albus’ skin had begun to prickle and he had felt the hair on his arms stand up at the feeling of his dad’s magic begin to flow around them. Normally, his Dad’s magic felt warm, and comforting. Like being wrapped in a wool blanket. But this time it had felt hot, like Albus had been standing in front of an open furnace. As the feeling of heat intensified, Albus had watched the trees in the distance begin to blur, a haze rising from the ground, climbing higher until it had curved high in the sky over the house and then began to spread out.

_“Cave Inimicum,”_ his Dad finished, with a flourish of his wand, and had lowered his arms. 

Albus could swear that he felt a rattling _boom_ in his chest as the wards sealed over the house and garden. Suddenly, the haze had gone - Albus could see the trees clearly - but there was a slight pressure and buzzing in Albus’ ears from the magic surrounding him.

“What do you think?” his dad had asked him, and Albus had walked to the fence line and lifted his hand. His fingers had brushed against the ward just above the top of the fence, and for a second it had sparked purple-blue before Albus had pushed his hand into the thick mud feeling and suddenly his hand was on the other side of the fence.

“The ward recognises who was inside when it was cast,” his Dad had told him as Albus looked at him, surprised. “You can cross it, but no-one else will be able to. And the Anti-Apparation charms will stop anyone from being able to apparate in.” He had shoved his wand back in his pocket, and turned. “Come on. Let’s go check the Floo. And then we’ll see what everyone else is up to.”

With a faint _pop_ , Albus had pulled his hand out of the ward, and followed his dad into the house, feeling a bit better about staying at home. With his dad and his burning hot magic with them, Albus had thought that nothing could hurt them. 

\---

“No!” Albus heard his dad laughingly protest, and then James’ voice crowing with delight as he called out “Checkmate!”

Albus was in the kitchen with his mother, finishing his homework at the table while his dad and James were playing a game of wizard’s chess in the sitting room. Lily was, last time Albus saw, also in the living room, stealing the chess pieces that James won and decorating them with her markers, much to the piece’s - and James’ - dismay. 

His mother chuckled and Albus caught her eye. “When will he learn?” she said fondly, shaking her head, then looked over Albus’ head. “You never learn,” she said, and Albus heard his dad chuckle as he walked around the table and wrapped his arms around Ginny’s waist. “Never,” he agreed, staring down at Ginny with a fond grin. 

“Ugh. Mum. Dad. I’m sitting right here,” Albus said, rolling his eyes and pretending to be disgusted by the display of affection between his parents, like James did. Secretly, Albus loved watching his parents be so happy together..

His dad cocked his head at his mum, lifting an eyebrow. His mum lifted an eyebrow in return, and in unison the two of them moved around the table and enveloped Albus in the middle of a giant parental hug. 

“No! Lemme go!” Albus laughed, struggling against the cage of arms. He felt the rumble of his dad’s chuckle as one set of arms tightened around him. “Never,” his dad repeated. Albus sighed and laid his head against his dad’s chest, moaning with feigned disgust as his mum kissed his cheek with a loud smacking mwah! but basking in the warmth and love that he felt surrounding him. It wasn’t often he got both parents to himself, and Albus was going to enjoy every second of it.

All too soon, he felt his dad stiffen. There was the roar that Albus associated with the Floo, and sure enough, when he sat up and turned around, he could see a head floating in the strange green flames of the fireplace.

“Harry,” the head said, looking around. 

His dad stood up, walking to the fireplace and dropping to one knee in front of it. “Mercer,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to bother you at home,” the head - Mercer - said. “But it’s Davidson.”

Albus felt his mum drop a kiss on his hair and stand up, and Albus spun in his chair a little so he could better watch the Floo conversation. The floating heads always fascinated him, and he enjoyed listening in on the adult conversations. 

“What about Davidson?” his dad asked, looking up with a quick smile as Albus’ mum handed him a roll of parchment and a quill she had grabbed from somewhere in the kitchen.

“We can’t find him. He’s supposed to be on duty at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, but Hannah Floo’d to ask when the Auror was going to arrive. He’s not there.”

Albus could see his dad tense up. “Have you - “

“We’ve checked the usual places. We’ve asked around. Nobody has seen him since the briefing this morning,” Mercer said, and Albus could hear worry in the echoing voice.

“Who is he supposed to be on duty with?” his Dad asked, the quill scratching on the parchment as he took notes.

“O’Shaughnessy,” Mercer replied. “Only - “

“Only no one can find her, either,” his dad said.

Mercer nodded. 

“Right. Which teams in London are closest to Diagon Alley?” his dad asked.

Mercer’s head turned, and he seemed to stare into the flames beside him for a moment. Albus guessed he was looking at something in the office. “Mosbey’s, Jordan’s and Kaur’s” he said.

Albus’ dad was silent for a second. “Re-direct Mosbey’s team to the Leaky Cauldron. And - where’s Robards?”

Mercer for a moment as he looked into the flames again. “On stand-by,” he reported. “But he’s leading the search for Davidson and O’Shaughnessy at the moment.”

“Get him to go back to the Ministry. Tell him I’m coming in. I don’t like the feel of this.” Harry said. 

Mercer nodded and disappeared from the flames with a small _pop_ , the flames dying back down to their glowing red embers. 

“Harry.”

Albus and his dad both looked at Ginny, who was standing with his arms crossed, a displeased look on her face. “Ginny,” Harry said, standing up and walking over to her. “I’m sorry, I have to -”

“Tonight?” she said. 

“I know, but - “

“But what about - ?”

“I know, but I can’t -”

Albus was confused. His parents were speaking in half sentences, cutting each other off yet they seemed to know exactly what the other was saying. Albus wished he did. 

“Mum? Dad?”

Ginny and Harry turned to look at Albus, surprised to find him still in the room.

With a quick look at Ginny, Harry came around and crouched in front of Albus. “I have to go to work,” he told Albus. “Something has gone wrong, and I need to go to help fix it.”

“But you said you’d stay with us tonight! You said you would keep us safe!”

His dad sighed, then looked sideways at Ginny, who shrugged in a “don’t look at me” kind of way. “I did say that. But you heard what Mercer said. Someone who was supposed to be on duty tonight is missing, and I need to find them, make sure they’re all right, and make sure that the job that they were meant to do gets done. That’s my job.”

“But what about us?” Albus could hear the whine in his voice, but didn’t care. He remembered the burnt houses, the smashed glass. He wanted his Dad here, with them. 

“You will still be safe,” his dad assured them. “The house is warded: you saw me cast the protective spells. No-one can get in. And there are Aurors patrolling around town. If you look out the window of your bedroom you might be able to see them. And your mum is here. And frankly,” his dad dropped his voice, like he was telling Albus a secret, “your mum is fiercer than half of the Aurors I know.”

Albus swallowed nervously. “I don’t want you to go,” he confessed. 

His dad wrapped him in a hug. “I know. And I don’t want to go,” he confessed to Albus. “But - “

“- that’s your job,” Albus finished the oft-said sentence.

His dad gave him a sad smile. “It is. And it’s a really important job tonight. But you will be safe. And I will be back as soon as I can.”

Albus nodded, biting his lip to stop the tears that he could feel filling his eyes. His Dad stood up and went into the living room to say goodbye to Lily and James, his mum following him. Albus could hear Lily start to cry and his Dad murmur reassuringly, and squeezed his hands into fists, feeling his nails cut into the palms of his hands. If Lily was crying, then he couldn’t, he told himself. He had to be strong. 

A few minutes later his dad hurried back into the kitchen, tugging at the buckles of his wand sheath on his thigh, his red Auror robes open over his jeans and faded Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. He stopped in front of Albus and put a hand on Albus’ shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Nothing is going to happen. You will be safe.”

Albus nodded, not trusting that he would be able to say anything without crying. 

With a final smile, and a pat on the shoulder, Harry strode to the fireplace. “Ginny!” he called over his shoulder, pulling his wand out from under his robes and waving it at the fireplace. Albus turned to see his mum come back into the kitchen, a hiccuping Lily in her arms.

“Close the Floo once I’ve gone through,” he said, sliding the wand into the leather holster and taking Ginny and Lily into his arms. Albus watched as his mum and dad put their foreheads together and closed their eyes for a moment. With a whispered “be safe,” his mum gave his dad a long kiss and then his dad was stepping back, grabbing a handful of powder from the ceramic mug that James had made in art class a few years ago and throwing it into the fireplace. 

“Ministry of Magic” his dad announced and, with a quick smile over his shoulder, stepped into the flames and was gone.

As the roar of the Floo died down, his mum stepped forward and pulled her wand out of her ponytail, waving it at the fireplace and muttering incantations under breath. 

Then the kitchen was silent, except for the ticking of the clock and Lily’s occasional hiccup.

“Well,” his mum said. “What should we do now?”

Without a word, Albus got up and ran up to his bedroom.


End file.
